


different strokes

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [37]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, M/M, Office AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 19:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11721003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: It is these traits that have made Osamu the top salesman at the company for six months running, and to Shinsuke, his greatest asset, and his imminent peril.Kita in the office with a pair of cufflinks.





	different strokes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 5: Clue | [originally posted here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/24808.html?thread=15479272#cmt15479272)

The last thing Shinsuke expects to see when he emerges from his bathroom, hair still dripping wet, is Miya Osamu lounging on his couch. It's also the last thing he’s surprised by, by now.

“I really need to have a word with Atsumu about security in here,” he says, hanging his towel up on his chair.

Osamu chuckles, like he knows just how that conversation will go.

“I never knew you had an entire _shower_ in your office. You never ask me in.”

Shinsuke opens a cupboard, picks out the floral musk cologne and tilts his neck to spray a touch on. “I like to freshen up before meeting important people.”

“I’m incredibly flattered, Kita-san.”

“As you should be. You don’t even have an appointment. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Osamu’s voice drops. “It _is_ my last day, you know.”

“I know,” says Shinsuke, back still facing Osamu. He can see him now, in his mind’s eye; that comfortable slouch to his shoulders and his slight lean forward, the way he’s always less imposing than first impressions might suggest, for someone so tall. It’s not that Osamu shrinks into himself, either. It’s just that he slips in between cracks, makes himself present in subtler ways, till Shinsuke cannot remember what these spaces looked like, before they were full of his silence and his understanding.

It is these traits that have made Osamu the top salesman at the company for six months running, and to Shinsuke, his greatest asset, and his imminent peril.

“I wanted to say bye to you, Kita-san. In person. And to give you something.”

Shinsuke sets the cologne back on the shelf. His exhale is a contained tremor.

He turns around to see Osamu pull a box out of his pocket, stand up and walk over.

“That’s a big box for a ring,” Shinsuke remarks, before he can help it.

Osamu’s laughter is like dark chocolate. “You’re moving a bit fast, don’t you think, Kita-san?”

“You’re the one in my office like this—”

Osamu presses the box into his hands and takes off the lid, and all of Shinsuke’s barbed protestations trail away in his mouth.

They’re just cufflinks. Nothing fancy, simple, understated triangles in silver with gold tips. If he looks closer, he can make out his initials monogrammed on them, _K_ and _S_ shimmering under the warm light.

“I know you lost your favourite pair on your last work trip…”

“I really need to have a word with Atsumu about gossip, too,” Shinsuke murmurs.

“So. Wear these,” Osamu smiles. “And when you’re not my boss anymore, wear them out with me. On a real date.”

He lifts one of the cufflinks from its box, fingers ghosting down Shinsuke’s wrist, and slips it on.


End file.
